


(I Said) Honey, I Don't Like This Game

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M, PWP, Sexuality (of the tactile kind), crackish, seriously no don't take this very seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ambulon is wearing lingerie. How he got them and in his size, no one knows, but that's not important. Pharma is just a big pervert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Said) Honey, I Don't Like This Game

**Author's Note:**

> People on plurk are persuasive little fucks.

"T-This is highly inappropriate and goes against at--at _least_ ten different work protocols--"

"You're a bit too late with that excuse."

"'Excuse'? Those are the rules. Pharma, this--"

"Are you now going to try and pull rank on me, warden?"

Ambulon's yellow optics flushed. Pharma's grin was wicked, matching the mischievous little glimmer in his blue eyes. He looked from his boss's leer to the ground. Knotted in his hands, they hung like tendrils, like a noose-- "No," he said, firmly, composing himself. He met Pharma's gaze again, stern-faced. "I just... feel this--"

"I don't pay you to feel, Ambulon. I pay you to _work_."

The poorly painted medic flinched. Pharma took a sip of his high grade, smiling over the rim. Ambulon had to turn his gaze away again, another rush of heat circulating through his system. He glanced back at his boss from the corner of one optic.

Pharma lounged in his chair; although aloof, he still looked damn professional. One leg folded over the other. Holding a small cube of the finest high grade. The slim, yet finely built chassis; those elegant wings with their sharp, upturned tips. The warm colors. The perfect grin on his face, the piercing intensity of his optics. The air he cycled, the energy he powerfully radiated from his EM field, threatening to swallow Ambulon whole like a lion on a wounded fucking gazelle.

Ambulon shuttered his optics. Coolant pushed through his circuitry to soothe his hot chassis. He was angry, yes; angry, and disgusted. He was offended that Pharma would even _order_ him to... to do _this_ , let alone except him to. Though despite the frustration and the irritation, Ambulon need only look back at Pharma and fingers flexed from the CMO's EM field, stroked his coaxingly and gentle and--

Godfuckingdammit.

"Fine."

Pharma's grin quirked.

"But this - _none of this_ \- leaves this room." Ambulon pointed to the ground for emphasis.

"You need not worry about that," Pharma reassured, swishing a blue hand. "No one will know what happened here."

Ambulon bristled. _Happened_ ; past tense. Implying he _was_ going to do this. Ambulon hesitated a few moments longer, lingering somewhere between pride and shame. He heard plating rattle and glanced up; Pharma had uncrossed his legs, only to cross them again, right leg this time. How could someone drinking cheap swill, reclining half-cocked in a chair look so damn powerful?

Ambulon sighed.

Quietly, he unraveled the threads of fabric from his hands. One look at them and his tanks churned with embarrassment. Pharma's sig sent another reassuring push to continue. Cursing himself to the Pit, he slowly went about applying the articles. Pulling it up his legs, around his hips, then another, and another, and Ambulon took a moment just to... stare at himself.

The underwear was made of silk, pure white with lacy fringes. The stockings were tinted white, just barely translucent, thigh-high. The garter belts hung uselessly against his hips.

Ambulon pressed his face in his hands. "This is so humiliating."

Pharma chortled. His optics seemed to have brighten, and the ex-Decepticon could definitely feel the spike of heat in the room's temperature. "But they look so lovely on you," he crooned. "So... pure. Innocent." Took a swallow of his high grade. "Don't you miss that, Ambulon? Isn't that why you're here? Why you've repainted yourself? You want to be... innocent again."

Ambulon lowered his hands. His optics dimmed slightly. He didn't know what to say, but felt another surge of offense. A sudden desire to slug his smug boss's smarmy face in. He frowned, and for a moment, he was about to rip off these... stupid things and just stomp out and maybe throw in his resignation, but... At the same time... 

They had an affect. Not on Ambulon, besides the shame and confusion. On Pharma, however, most definitely, and it didn't take a genius to realize the winged Autobot was turned on.

"Now," Pharma said, sure Ambulon had finally decided on his next plan of action, "finish it up." He shook his cube lightly at one of the belts.

Ambulon grit his denta. Sigh. Whatever. His hands shook a little as he hooked up the garter belts to the stockings. Hiked them up a little. Once finished, he simply... stood there. Not sure what to do. In his thigh-high white stockings and white underwear, knees buckled slightly, optics imploring Pharma desperately for what to do next.

Pharma was sizing the warden up, head to foot. One corner of his leer expanded. Ambulon swallowed, both nervous and... strangely happy. "Have you seen enough?" he asked a moment later, gesturing to his stockings. "Can I take them off now?" He reached for a garter belt. "Don't even know where you fraggin' got these things what the Pit are th--"

"Ambulon. Stop."

There was a very indescribable chill that ran down Ambulon's backstrut at the way Pharma said his name so firm and commanding. He froze immediately, hands stilling at the belt. Ambulon went to look up, but spotted his boss's legs moving. 

Pharma approached him, frowning, optics ridges furrowed. "Stand up," the medic ordered.

Ambulon was rod-straight a split second later. Pharma said nothing - absolutely nothing - as he began to... pace. Slowly. Around his employee. His hands behind his back, and Ambulon kept his gaze forward, baffled, concerned. He could _feel_ Pharma's intense optics studying every nook and cranny of his chassis, from the seams right down to chipped away splotches of red paint. His EM field was restrained, however, making it even harder for Ambulon to remain still. He couldn't read what Pharma was doing; he just moved like a calculating shark around him in smooth, but slow strides.

Pharma stopped only once to grab one of the garter belts. Ambulon twitched as the CMO proceeded to fix the twisted belt, clipping it back into place, before returning to his silent, hands-off stalking.

After what felt like an eternity of figuratively dissecting his rigid employee, Pharma stepped up in front of him. Stood straight. He stared down, at the stockings, at the underwear; Ambulon stared down with him. His fingers twitched at his sides; why did he suddenly feel so... exposed?

Pharma raised his head, peered down his slim nose at Ambulon. Ambulon wasn't sure what to do; he kept his head down, optics looking up beneath creased brows. One expert finger slipped beneath his chin, helping his head up and back slightly, and the ex-Decepticon made a grumbled noise. Their optics met, locked, and Ambulon wasn't sure where the fuck this was going.

Then, Pharma smiled.

Ah, shit, this could only--

Suddenly, Pharma's EM field released its pent up energy. Ambulon was overwhelmed with the winged Autobot's feelings of lust and desire, hunger and excitement. It nearly sent him falling to his knees. All at once, his system lit up, and his own field burst with equal enthusiasm. It was very infectious - damn doctors.

Ambulon swallowed, his optics too bright, face too hot. The finger beneath his chin moved aside, and then Pharma was backing away, withdrawing his leeching EM field. Ambulon visibly shuddered when they uncoiled, and he felt both alone and unsatisfied standing by himself again. Pharma sat back in his chair, picked up his cube and took another casual sip. Ambulon cycled hot, and he knew Pharma could hear his fans beating away inside his quivering chassis, all dolled up in lingerie.

Finally, after leaving his poor coworker hanging, Pharma raised two fingers, and gave them beckoning wags. Ambulon swallowed, spark skipping a pulse. He understood. He moved over to Pharma, somehow managing to do so both stiff as a rock and nearly boneless as a doll. It felt too mechanical, as if Pharma had strung him up like a puppet. Nonetheless, Ambulon didn't fight this persuasive force.

Ambulon stood before Pharma. A blue hand reached out and touched his hip, giving it a little tug. Obediently, Ambulon crawled forward, planting knees outside each of the CMO's thighs. Sitting pretty in his lap. Pharma leered again, his blue hand falling down to cup Ambulon's aft and yank him closer. The ex-Decepticon gasped as their chests nearly crashed together, cockpit glass hot against his mismatched plating.

Pharma sunk a sly digit into Ambulon's gorget, tugged his face closer. Inches apart now, he sat forward, just a little, to gently nuzzle his face against Ambulon's warm cheek. The warden flinched. Pharma gave his collar another tiny jerk, then pressed his lips to the side of his employee's head, against his audiol sensor.

"Let me feel that silk ride me."

Ambulon shivered. Oh, God. Pharma drew back his hand, relaxed. It was all Ambulon now. Taking a moment to debate continuing or running the fuck out of the office, Ambulon sat upright. He cycled a deep breath. Glanced at the ridiculous apparel he'd been "forced" to wear. He shuttered his optics and frowned.

Well, here went nothing.

Ambulon began work carefully. Slowly. His legs closed tighter around Pharma's thighs, allowing him to feel more of the stocking's downy touch. Started... moving. Back and forth. Riding along Pharma's legs, underwear practically polishing the doctor's armor. Pharma nonetheless stirred; apparently, Ambulon was going about this correctly. Good. Or whatever.

Ambulon continued riding up and down Pharma's legs in slow, torturous strokes, until even he felt a tingle from the fabric rubbing up against him. His spark flitted in its chamber, pushing another wave of energy into his EM field. Pharma caught it and purred. A moment later, his sig field reached out, and once more thread itself seamlessly into Ambulon's.

The combined energy was powerful enough, but the soft, smooth warmth of the fabric made it ever so slightly more exhilarating. Ambulon wasn't in the right state of mind; drunk on lust, grinding into Pharma's lap in his lingerie like nothing else in the world fucking mattered and pride, what pride? When he came back to his senses, he'd force himself to forget that moment of reconsideration. _Maybe we could do this again another time - alien clothes and all_. No; no, no, no. When Ambulon was sober and not groaning wantonly as he thrust up against Pharma's EM field and down his legs, he would never, _ever_ do this again, and would force himself to forget it ever happened.

That was for later, however. Right now, Ambulon could care less. There was no pride or shame. No sense of being undermined. It was all touch and energy. Pharma's hands stroking his hips and thrusting and kneeing his pelvic plating. The way the fabric down his legs and around his groin rubbed so soft and yet so tight around him. Their energy, threatening to explode, injecting each and every circuit with white hot fire. No - there was no shame or pride or whatever. Ambulon was enjoying it, and he whimpered and moaned and undulated his hips to show the extent of his joy.

Pharma wasn't exactly vocal; he grunted, growled, moaned maybe once, but he was damn appreciative. He held onto Ambulon, guided him along his body and sig field with the greatest of pleasures. Clinging tightly to the yellow-eyed mech, pulling him close until he swore his canopy glass was going to break. Though at one point his engines did snarl and vibrate against Ambulon's thighs, which was _very_ nice of them.

Then, it was over. With a powerful burst of energy and a gasp, Ambulon arched his back, Pharma's cockpit shrieking at the sudden grind. Pharma fell back, and the two rode out their overloads. Nearly every bit of energy was ripped from their bodies. The air sparkled with little pops of electricity, the room smelling of their coupling.

They sat there for a few moments, recomposing, re-calibrating. Pharma half-consciously pushed tiredly at Ambulon's abdomen, and the smaller medic obediently crawled off his lap. His knees buckled and he nearly fell over; swaying, he hit the wall, using it for support. Fatigued, dim yellow optics looked to Pharma, who was guzzling down the rest of his high grade.

Ambulon's optics fell to his legs. He pushed one leg forward, eyeing the extent of the stocking. The belt still attached. He ran fingers deftly along the silk and lace, shuddering. He'd seen aphrodisiacs in many forms - solid, liquid, even a programmed virus, but these... Whatever _these_ were... _Damn_.

Pharma looked to Ambulon. "You can take them off now," he noted.

Ambulon stared back at him. "Yeah," he said, still stroking the stocking, "I know."

Just tired, that was all. He'd take them off. In a minute. Pharma wasn't complaining.

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this fic are lyrics from Strut by Sheena Easton, a wonderful little song. EDIT: Oh, look! I got a very lovely pic of [Ambulon in drag by rustdogs](http://vividambrosia.tumblr.com/post/39656964639/cataradical-hello-i-very-much-enjoy-your). Golly, look at this beaut.


End file.
